


Some kind of nature

by kittybenzedrine



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Adoption, Character Death, Drug Use, F/M, Hex makes terrible decisions sometimes, Minor Character(s), Minor Violence, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittybenzedrine/pseuds/kittybenzedrine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hex does a lot of bad shit. He does some good shit too, to balance it out.</p><p> </p><p>Mostly, he just fucks up a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dad and Doc

_His shotgun rested against his back, bouncing lightly with every lax step he took. His footsteps clicked on the ground and echoed off the walls, filling the place with gentle, rhythmic noise. It felt good being back with his dad. He'd missed him a lot. It felt good to be able to do stuff for him again, even if it was simple tasks. He was at least contributing to the project in some way. God, he hadn't been in this good of a mood in a long time._

_He even felt a little bit of pride. He'd gotten clean and stopped doing Jet (three weeks was a huge accomplishment for him, he hadn't been this sober since he was 14). And now, he was_ actually helping _complete the work that his mother and father had started. Y'know, before he came along (and kinda caused his mom to die)._

_It'd been a bitch to find his dad. Tranquility Lane was an even bigger bitch. He was completely against needless violence towards children, but Braun/Betty was a little shit and it took all his willpower not to punch the little fuck. It felt terrible having to do all that awful shit in the simulation, but getting dad out had been so worth it._

_(He'd never admit how happy he'd been when he saw the dog and squealed 'doggy!' over and over again while petting it, not realizing it was actually his dad. That was embarrassment they'd both rather avoid talking about.)_

_Once out of the damned pods, they'd embraced for a bit and chattered, until dad said he was ready to leave, and Hex followed right behind. He was willing to do anything it took to help finish his father's life's work._

_The drainage valve came into view, and he took a hold of the turn-y valve handle thing. "Awesome," he muttered, a tiny smile on his pierced lip. He held onto it as he twisted himself in opposite directions, popping is back first. Maybe dad would let him put in the code to activate the purifier. With a heft of strength, he twisted the valve._

_The moment he'd activated the valve to drain it, he saw the Vertibird. Then the alarms started blaring. Panic shot through him and the smile fell from his face. He turned around and ran as fast as he could, whipping his shotgun off of his back to shoot two Enclave troops through their visors as he made his way back. He had to protect his father and the project._

_He shot every Enclave troop he came across. A few times, he slipped in blood and fell, getting covered in it, but scrambled up and ran even harder than before. His knees and elbows stung from landing on them repeatedly, and his lungs_ burned. _He skidded to a stop in the entrance to the Rotunda just in time to see Autumn put a bullet through Kaplinski's abdomen. His eyes went wide when he saw his father. James made eye contact with him. "Jeremiah. I love you, son. Now run!"_

_And then he flooded the chamber. With radiation._

_A lethal dose._

_"Run, run!" His father shouted weakly, slumping against the glass. Hex shot forward, a harsh, icy horror filling his gut. He couldn't lose his father again, couldn't lose the last person on earth that loved him. He needed to get his dad out of there NOW, while he still had a chance of living._

_"Fuck, Dad no! DADDY!"_

_Li grabbed him by his collar and pulled him away, effectively choking him with the fabric. Hex felt his throat close up for a completely different reason as he watched his father slump to the ground, and die. She was shaking, her voice high and panicked. "Jeremiah- Hex, no! We have to go, NOW! There's nothing we can do, we have to move!"_

_And when she let go, move he did._

_He left felt nothing for a moment. The thick lump in his throat remained as he shot down the other Enclave soldiers, following closely behind Li and her group. His dad was dead because of the Enclave._ His dad was dead because of those mother fuckers. __

_Past there was an angry blur as he shot and nearly mutilated every troop in his sight. Double, triple, quadruple tapping. The fuckers were gonna pay. He was going to make damn sure of that. The sweet little drug addicted vault boy was now a mass murder machine, slaughtering everything in a metal suit. He was covered in gore from skewered enemies, and burns from plasma and laser rifles, his teeth barred and his sword slightly bent from bending in the metal joints of the Enclave suits. His shotgun was long empty._

_When Garza's heart began to give out, he didn't even blink when he dumped five stims into Li's hand to give him, only waiting until he was up and walking again to continue on his bloody rampage. His sword finally snapped in half, and he switched over to his favorite gun; Ol' Painless. He killed everything that wasn't on his side, leaving a trail of death in his wake._

_By the time they made it to the Citadel, the anger and adrenaline had worn off, and he was left with only emptiness. His limbs felt heavy, and he wanted nothing more than to lay down and not get up, like ever. While Li screamed her way into the Citadel, he figured out what he was going to do. He gave them a look. He followed his father's instructions, only a few hours late._

_He ran._

_He made it to Underworld in two days time, having only stopped for the barest of means. Playing on the little league team, and running from Butch in his childhood so often had payed off in his favor. He could run long distances without being winded in the slightest._

_He was skinnier than usual by the time he arrived, sunburnt from being in the sun for the first time in months, and sick from dehydration and exhaustion. He refused to let Doc Barrows see him, only accepting water to satisfy him. From there, he stumbled up to the Ninth Circle and bought every drug and bottle of alcohol Azrhukal had, locked himself into a tunnel closet, and_

 

 

The past three weeks had been a haze of crippling grief, alcohol, drugs, and an unknown person bringing him food and water every few days. Somewhere in the haze he assumed that he'd managed to drag a mattress in there, which was by now saturated in alcohol. He was miserable. He wanted to die.

He saw his dying father every time he closed his eyes. Drinking himself to sleep usually helped from dreaming, and when that stopped working, he took a cocktail of drugs. It only worked for so long, until he had no other choice but to cry himself to sleep with a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand.

His days were full of blackouts and hazes of consciousness. He didn't remember much of anything, honestly. At one point, he'd awoken with his ghoul mask on, laying in the middle of the kitchen area. The mask was plastered to his head with dried blood from a wound he didn't remember. He'd made his way back to his little closet and used a stim, and from there everything was gone again.

Another time, he'd awoken slouched over a urinal with a bad taste in his mouth, and he was pretty sure it was only partially due to vomit. Not to mention, his Geiger counter was going off and his mouth was full of gritty tasting water...

He preferred not to think about that one.

Day after day, his supply was dwindled down as he shot up and drank away. He had track marks from frequent use of Psycho, and he could barely speak coherently. Even the ferals were confused by the babbling coming from the smelly door. Little by little, he used up most of his supply.

When he inevitably ran out of drugs and alcohol, he forced himself back into the Underworld to purchase more. He had caps coming out the ass, he'd be set until he finally overdosed. He ignored the looks from all the residents. He knew he looked (and smelled) like shit. He hadn't showered in a month, and getting covered in vomit at least twice and not bathing for three weeks made him pretty gross smelling. Not to mention all the Enclave blood still dried into his clothes. He pretended not to hear them whispering.

Barrows, who had just emerged from the Chop Shop for something or other, caught one look of him and called him over with a promise of Jet. Begrudgingly, Hex entered the clinic. Doc drugged him up nice and good, choosing not to give him an exam yet. He had Graves draw a bath and forced Hex to get in, keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't accidentally drown himself while he gently rubbed blood and vomit from his pale skin, a glazed look in his eyes.

"I can clean m'self, Doc. You ain't gotta watch." Hex told him, preceding to cover his face with a rag and scrub the rest of the blood away, cleaning off a month's worth of built up oils. He scrubbed a bit harder, and when he looked up, the doc had his (lack of) nose in a book.

He dunked his head under, roughly scratching his nails against his scalp. Oh gross, he had dandruff again. He kept his head under, scratching until he could no longer hold his breath and surfaced, preceding to clean the rest of his body. Under pits, behind ears, between toes, inside belly button, all his man bits. He scrubbed his shoulders and chest, cringing at the sting of irradiated water grating on his raw skin. Vomit knew how to get everywhere.

Once again he went to scrub at his face, sighing in the process. His acne was back big time, if the painful bumps on his face were any indication. And if the pimples were back, that meant his blackheads were back. And in addition to that, he now had a scratch beard on his face that didn't seem to want to get clean.

Eventually he finished, Nurse Graves, who wasn't phased by his nakedness, supplied him two towels and RadAway when he shakily climbed out of the tub. He wound one around his tiny hips, using the other to gently rub at his hair. Once he was sufficiently dried, He was supplied a razor and a mirror, much to his relief. He shaved off the beard that had accumulated over the past month. He trimmed down his soul patch, rubbing the wet hair under his lip In amusement. He'd been a bit of a late bloomer, so the novelty of facial hair hadn't worn off yet.

"Doc? You the one that's been bringin' me food an' shit?" He asked when he was finished, only a slight slur evident in his speech. It meant the drugs were wearing off. His hands were already shaking from withdraw, and he was starting to ache. Doc didn't give him enough drugs. It was enough for a buzz and that was it.

"Yes. It was hell finding you, Smoothskin. You were gone and Az said that you had bought every bit of drugs and alcohol he had, even his reserve stash. You were face down in a closet when I found you. Thought you'd overdosed. Helped you drag a mattress in there so you weren't fucking your back up by sleeping on the floor. Now hold still."

Barrows stilled him and plunged a needle into his arm, sending anti-addictive medications into his system, clearing his head within a minute flat. Hex frowned, rubbing his temples. "Holy shit, I feel like shit," he muttered, bowing his head away from the light. "This the part where you ask me a bunch of questions?"

The doctor nodded. "I can tell you're malnourished, and the addictions took a pretty bad toll on your body too. Stand up," Barrows commanded and once Hex was up, he gave an examination.

Hex kept his towel up around his waist, letting doc do the examination, answering his questions. "Yes, I still smoke. No, no sex recently. Um... I ate last time you brought me stuff? Yeah, I sleep, but not well." He shrugged, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "Still not feeling too good. Not hungry though. I'll eat later." Doc sighed at him and began feeling around his ribs, trying to evaluate just how bad his body was faring. 

The man was quiet, his face pulled into a pained expression. "Hurting you?" The doctor asked, moving his fingers a bit lighter. Hex shook his head. 

"Dad," he murmured, his brown eyes flitting to the floor. Doc sighed, placing his hands on the other man's shoulders. The kid was 19. Losing someone you love at so young, especially a parent, was hard. The doc should know, he'd lost everyone.

"Hex, listen to me. Your father's dead, and you know this. There's _nothing_ you can do about it. No amount of wishing or praying or dreaming is gonna fix that. I know it hurts to hear, but you do need to hear it. He's dead, and you're on the fast track to being there. Thus, you have two options at this point. You either lay down and do like you've been doing and join him. That project will be for nothing. He'll be dead and you'll be dead and it'll waste away and no one will ever finish it. 

"Or," he continued, waiting for the other to look him in the eyes. "Or, you can go on. It's hard, I know. You lost your parent, and that's something hard to get over, especially because you're still so young. But you can go on and carry on the legacy that your father left behind and make it your own. You can save everyone out here and not let your father's life work go to waste. You have to remember, son, you're his life work too. You can go out and save the world and help everyone you can.

"You've almost single handedly made the Wasteland a better place. So decide; what are you going to do?"

Hex stood there, his face blank. His breathing was shallow, his teary eyes impossible to read. After a moment, he pulled away and began fiddling with his Pip-Boy, which he had left on the examination cot. Unexpectedly, a radio broadcast began echoing from the machine. Something from an escaped slave named Wernher and a place called The Pitt. He shut it off after it played twice, and he closed his eyes. "I know what I need to do."

Abruptly, he turned away, keeping the towel up around his waist. "I know what I need to do," he repeated to himself as he left the Chop Shop, once again ignoring the looks everyone was giving him as he passed though the concourse. No one dared to speak to the nearly naked man in the towel, who gave off an aura of rage. No one whispered this time.

Just his luck, he only ran into one feral, who's head nearly exploded from the sheer amount of force he used when he slammed it against the wall. The poor thing slumped down, dead. 

He found his little closet and dressed in the freshest undershirt and boxers he had, then struggled into his Hellfire armor. The stuff was a bitch to put on, on his own. He tucked the helmet under his arm and grabbed his pack, digging out two little bags, filled with 500 caps each. He shouldered his pack and made his way back to the Chop Shop. Nobody even looked at him this time. Most of them we're suddenly very busy, far too busy to deal with the terrifying looking man.

He entered the Chop Shop relatively quietly, dumping the bags of caps on a chair. "I know what I have to do, Doc." He said, looking at him, the fire in his dark eyes burning bright. "Those're for you and Nursie." And abruptly, he left.


	2. Azrhukal and Charon

Azrhukal looked up as one of the doors slammed open. People here knew better than to slam his shit around, so it better be a fucking outsider. The little vault shit, who looked pretty clean (hygiene and drug wise), stood there, jaw clenched. Well now, he was such a little boy to have such angry in his face. The slamming was now seen as an act of aggression.

Azrhukal glanced to Charon, making eye contact, then looked back to the vault man-child. The bartender put on a big smile. He drew a pattern on the bar, signaling to his body guard to be wary. Maybe the little shit was back to spend all his caps on more drugs, or-

"I want his contract."

The ghoul's non-existent brows shot up. That wasn't what he expected to hear from him. Time to pull the big strings. The more caps he could get out of the kid, the better. "But Charon is such a valuable asset to me. He is my loyal emplo-"

He was cut off. "Cut the shit," the boy snapped. "I'm not playing your fucking games, Azrhukal. I'm not falling for you bullshit again. I'm not that sad little boy who needs 'uncle Az' to drug him up. I'll give you 2000 here and now."

He was stunned, nonetheless (but of course, he didn't show it), and slightly offended. Just a few weeks ago, this boy had been a sniveling little wreck, buying even the drugs he had in reserves. The boy crossed the room and stood in front of the bar. Azrhukal drew another pattern on the bar, telling Charon to be ready if shit went down. "Well, for your rudeness, I'll take 3000-"

Once again, the boy cut him off, this time slamming his hands down onto the bar top. "You fuckin' deaf? The fuck did I JUST tell you? I'm _not_ playing your games. 2000 and I'll leave now."

Azrhukal looked to Charon once again, studying him for a moment. He was poised and ready for combat, just as he had been commanded to do by the hand signals. Would it be worth it? Eh, he could just buy another slave. "I'm waiting," the boy grated out, shifting his weight.

Rude little mother fucker. He much preferred him when he was crying.

"Fine."

The boy peeled himself away from the bar, just long enough to dig out the caps. In that timeframe, Azrhukal very seriously considered having Charon kill the kid and just loot his body. "Two thousand. Pre counted. Give me the contract." The kid held out his hand.

With the smile of a champion, Azrhukal passed it to him. "Now get out of my fucking bar, smoothskin." 

Hex turned to his new bodyguard, making eye contact. "Your contact is mine now." Charon regarded the boy with surprise, then steeled himself back to his usual unreadable demeanor. As looked up as his ex bodyguard approached the bar, gun in hand. Azrhukal smirked. "Come to say goodbye?"

His head was obliterated in two shots. 

The boy in the armor nodded. He gave Charon a smile that held emptiness and hatred behind it as everyone flooded in, with gasps and 'Charon killed Azrhukal!'s. "You're free to do as you please. Just stay here is all I ask. I'll come for you when I'm ready. The caps I gave him should last you a while," he told him, and left, ignoring the gawking crowd that had gathered, and his new, slight confused body guard


	3. Marie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit does he fuck up a lot

Hex looked down at himself, frowning. "Hey, Wernher? How the hell am I s'posed to get in with all my ink?" He asked, eyes gazing at the tattoos littering his skin. One whole arm was covered, a few on the other, two on his chest, and many, many terrible ones on his thighs (actually like 6, but still). All of it was in arrays of every color of the rainbow. "I mean... I can take my piercings out, but there's no way to cover these up."

Wernher thought for a moment. "You can probably pick some stuff up off of a Wildman, just make it look shoddy. Or better yet, rub yourself down with mud. Or do both. How the hell did you get all that, anyways? The ink and the piercings?"

Hex grinned, showing off his white, nearly perfectly straight teeth. "See, in the vault I lived in, I was what they called the tattoo artist. I picked up the art of piercings along the way."

Wernher nodded. "Alright, kid. This is as far as I can go, though. You'll have to do the rest on your own. That knife strapped to your leg?" When Hex gave him a confirming nod, Wernher patted him on her shoulder. "Good luck, kid."

 

 

_"...The cure is Marie, and you knew that?" He asked Midea, holding the baby close to him. His chest ached and twisted, a mix of pain disgust, and disbelief swirling up. "You didn't even bother to tell me the cure was a baby."_

_"Yes, we knew the cure was a baby. We figured you might be skeptical if we told you, so we left it out. It was for our cause, and she'll be well taken care of," she told him, in a patronizing "now-be-a-good-little-boy-and-shut-up" voice, and Hex grew angrier and angrier, his breathing becoming harsh and his hands beginning to shake._

_"You knew. She was a baby. You had me murder her parents. You made me orphan a baby, when THEY WERE WORKING ON A FUCKING CURE!"_

_Midea recoiled, trying to figure out what to say as he crossed the room and put her in her makeshift crib. She babbled as he draped a blanket over the top of it, taking in a deep breath. He was a good man. He really was. But this wouldn't work. Bad deeds didn't go unpaid. He had to fix this mess. He flipped Man Opener of his back, and with a vicious snarl, decapitated Midea._

_All he felt was a white-hot blur of anger. Everything that had built up over the past few weeks was let out._

_He saw red in the corners of his vision. There was more red in the center of it, too._

_It was a massacre. He had already killed the slavers, and he killed every slave too. He killed the trogs. He killed the Wildmen. He killed everything that moved. The Pitt was silent. Only two heartbeats remained. He made his way back to Midea's quarters, Man Opener still in his hands. He nudged the blanket off of the crib, peering down at the sleeping infant._

_Her skin was a light mocha like her mother's, her hair dark like her father. He'd seen earlier, her eyes were a dark brown like his own. Tiny black wisps of hair stuck out around her head, her tiny fists clenched in her sleep. From the smell in the room, either Midea's bowels had voided upon death, or the baby needed her diaper/nappy changed. Probably both._

_He had two options. Neither of which he liked._

_He could kill her now. He wouldn't just leave her here. He was pissed, but he couldn't just leave an innocent infant here to starve or be killed by any creature that he somehow hadn't slaughtered. He could just have mercy, kill her now, and just be over with it. With the death of Marie Ashur, the final inhabitant of the Pitt would be gone, and they'd be extinct. One of the first known people to ever be born with radiation immunity would be dead. The entire, bloody legacy of the Pitt, gone. But the thought of murdering an infant left the bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat._

_Or, he could take her with him. He knew it was dangerous, and he knew he was unfit for parenting. He'd just slaughtered an entire civilization in what was essentially a piss-fit. He had no experience with children. He was just barely an adult. He still cried reading pre-war romance novels, for fuck's sake! He could barely take care of himself, let alone a baby. He didn't even know where to get her new cloth nappies, where to get her baby clothes, and formula especially. He wasn't equipped to care for himself, let alone an infant who needed 24/7 care. Having a baby had never been in any of his plans, not even in the vault._

_He closed his eye, and took a moment._

_Hex tightened his grip on the Man Opener. He took a deep breath, and looked down at her yet again._

_"I know what I have to do."_


	4. Amata

A week later, he left Vault 101, with Marie strapped into a homemade chest carrier, and thick, salty tears running down his face. 

"Jeremy... for what it's worth, I'm sorry," Amata said from behind him, her fingers gently touching his back. He whipped around, a hand gently bracing the baby's head to his chest. He barred his teeth at her.

"No, you're not. Don't fucking lie to me. If you were sorry, you'd at least let Marie stay. If you were fucking sorry, you would let me stay, regardless of what my father did." He brought his arms up to cradle the infant strapped to his chest and sniffled harshly, trying to get his tears to stop. "For all I fucking did for you." 

"Jer-"

He held up his hand. "No. You know what, fuck you. One, my name isn't Jeremiah anymore. No Jeremiah, no Jeremy, no Jer, no other fucking variation of it. My middle name is my real name now. Just Hex. Because it seems like I'm just one big goddamn curse, aren't I." It wasn't a question.

"And you know what, Amata? I should have killed your sorry excuse of a father when I had the chance this time." She visibly recoiled at that. She opened her mouth to speak, but he was faster.

"That way, we'd both have no mom or dad. You could know exactly how I've felt for the past month, not having ANYBODY. 

"I gave you one miracle by not killing him when I escaped. Neither of you deserved a miracle when I let him live this time." He shook his head, then bowed it. His chin grazed the top of Marie's head. Tears had begun to run down Amata's cheeks. 

"I've bent over backwards for you my whole life. I did everything for you so that you wouldn't have to suffer just because the Overseer was your father." She didn't speak.

"Who was your fucking knight in shining armor when daddy made you feel like shit? Who held you when you cried? Who got the shit beaten out of him countless times by the Tunnel Snakes for you, and then got _berated_ by you for joining them, for YOUR protection? Who tried to get a respectable position in the vault to represent you, for when we got married? Who did EVERYTHING for you, because he loves you?!

"Me, right? Didn't I do everything for you? You know what, aren't fucking princess I thought you to be. You were _my_ princess, but now I see. Butch was right. You're nothing but a little girl who still has her head up daddy's ass."

They were both crying now, him silently, and her with shaky, hiccup-y sobs. He looked up, meeting her watery, hazel eyes. "Goddammit, Amata," he muttered under his breath, his fingers stroking stray hairs on Marie's head. He wanted to hit something. "God fucking dammit."

She bowed her head and buried it in her hands, trying to muffle her sobs. Despite everything, he placed his hands on either side of her head and pressed his lips to her forehead for a moment. When he finally backed away, she looked up. His shoulders were slumped, and she realized how much older he looked. "I'm glad to know it meant nothing in the end. Goodbye, Amata." He turned from her, his whole body shuddering in a silent sob.

"J- Hex?" She whimpered out, her voice cracking. He turned only slightly to look at her, his brown eyes rimmed red. "I love you."

He swallowed thickly, his lips pursed. He thought for a moment. She looked at him expectantly. It could be the last time he gets to say it to her. But he was pissed as fuck and didn't want to dignify her with a response. For how much of a dick he just was, she deserved at least something nice before he left, though. 

"I..." he started. Don't give in, Hex. "I..." he let out a sigh. Hex, no. Don't do it.

"I love you, too, Amata."


	5. Lucas Simms

_Lucas accepted Marie from her adoptive parent, his eyes intent on Hex. "So," the Regulator drawled out, settling the tiny child in his arms, "you want me to do what, exactly?" He sat down in a chair, being mindful top cradle her neck. He'd nearly forgotten how fragile little babies were._

_Hex settled into a chair opposite of him, looking like he hadn't slept in days. Knowing him, he probably hadn't._

_The blonde man brushed his bangs into a neater position, returning the intense look. He seemed to be collecting himself. "You're the only person I trust, Lucas. For one, Megaton is one of the safest places I've ever been to. You're one of the most responsible people I've met out here, too, and lemme tell you, I've met a LOT of people. I wouldn't feel safe leaving her with anyone else, or any place else, 'specially with her... gift and all."_

_"Okay," Simms said, giving him a look. He knew about her radiation immunity, but that wasn't the problem. "I understand that part. But what the hell exactly are you doing that requires me to take your kid?"_

_Hex sighed. "I'm going on a potential suicide mission to finish my mother and fathers' life work. I'm gonna do my best to come home to her, but if I die, I trust you with her. You have a kid and he's one of the most polite children I've ever met, so obviously you know how to raise a kid." He shifted, lowering his voice a bit._

_"And besides, we know what I had to do to keep Burke from destroying the town."_

_Although he was embarrassed to admit it, he had to sleep with Burke to keep him from blowing the place up. The man has lured him in, making him believe it was the only way to keep the place from buying blown to bits. So Hex went with him to Tenpenny tower, and spent a long, sore night with him. After Burke had fallen asleep, Hex looted his room and snuck around until he'd found Burke's weapon._

_The man had awoken to Hex leaning over him, the cool metal of his gun presses to his temple. "My best friend Butch fucks better than you," he'd whispered. Hex then fondly remembered shooting Burke in the head with his own silenced pistol._

_Simms let out a long sigh, looking down at the dozing child. Hex had tied over a dozen ribbons of all different colors into her hair, and a tiny, hand sewn teddy bear was almost crushingly gripped by her. There was no doubt he'd made it. He was a miracle worker with needles, judging by his piercing, tattoos, and mended clothing. He was called a 'tattoo artist' in his vault._

_("Gotta know needles in my profession!" He'd said cheerfully as he sat on the floor in the Craterside Supply, patching up clothing for a few caps. He'd only been there for about two weeks, and needed money. After realizing people would pay him if he mended their clothing decently, he asked Moira for permission to borrow her shop floor. More people were likely to see him than if he remained at his home._

_"Need money for stims and cigs, you know. Maybe drugs," he'd added with a joking smile, which didn't seem like much of a joke since Lucas had caught him a few nights ago getting high with Leo Stahl.)_

_He wasn't cut out for this shit. He's 41 for Pete's sake. He's already got a kid, his wife long dead because of a Talon merc. He didn't want anymore damn kids, but Hex had saved the town. Not only did he disarm the bomb, he literally had to take it up the ass to keep Burke from blowing the place up himself. He did owe the kid, in a way. But this was something huge. He would be caring for a child, possibly permanently._

_Simms sighed, looking up to meet Hex's chocolate eyes. "Boy, you better come back. I already have hell keeping Maggie and Harden apart. I can't handle repeating this with a little girl."_

_Hex's whole body relaxed, his body seeming to melt into the chair. All the worry seemed to drain from his small frame, making Simms remember just how young the vault kid was. Not even 20 yet, was he? "You're a godsend, Lucas."_

_"Okay. I have her clothing in this box," Hex said, patting the box he'd just set down. "It's little onesies and shit, and some for when she gets bigger. All her nappies, er, diapers are in here too. I have another one full of her toys that I'll bring over in just a minute. Teddy bears are her favorite, but especially the one she's got now. His name is Ticker." The kid let out a long sigh._

_"Oh! I have her formula stuff in there too. I put some bows and that sort in there, and got some other toys. I'll be right back, gonna go get the other box." With that, he rushed out the door, and came back almost as quickly with another box in his arms._

_They chatted until the sun began to go down, Hex seeming to get more fidgety. It was common knowledge that he traveled under the cover of darkness, which was why his skin was so painfully pale, why he all always had sunglasses on when he had to be in the sun. ("My eyes aren't accustomed to the sun. Natural light hurts them too much, and besides, I burn way too easily.")_

_"I'm not ready to leave," he muttered to himself, picking his adopted child up. Lucas busied himself, not wanting to interrupt the kid. He held her close, feeling the heat of her tiny body against his chest. He rocked her for a moment. In the little bit of time that he'd had her, she had become his everything._

_The weight of the whole world was on his shoulders, and the weight of_ his _whole world was in his arms. He realized in this moment that he didn't regret killing everyone in the Pitt. Marie was always meant to be his daughter. If it weren't for her, Hex wouldn't be where he was. He'd probably have died of an overdose by now, especially after the incident with the Vault._

_Marie was the sunshine in his life, and he wouldn't have traded her for anything. He had to come home to her. He had to._

_He set her down in her makeshift crib, and looked up at Lucas. "I have a letter for her, if I don't come back. For when she's older." He looked away, reaching into a pocket of his well-worn pants. He plucked it out, offering it to the sheriff. "Thank you. So much," the boy murmured, barely above a whisper. With a deep breath, he leaned down into the crib, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I love you, Marie."_

_And he was gone like a shadow._


	6. Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marie,

Marie,

Hi sweetheart. My name is Hex. I've arranged to have Lucas Simms to give you this letter, but you probably call him dad. I'm your (first) adoptive father. 

If you're reading this, it means that either I'm dead, or I, for some reason, wasn't able to come back home to you. I swear if that's the case, it wasn't intentional. 

By now, you should know that you're immune to radiation, and if you didn't know, now you do. Don't tell anyone. I told Lucas, and that's enough to know. People may want to use you, but the only person you should trust with this information is a man named Doc Barrows in Underworld. He's a ghoul, like Gob. He's a good person. If you decide to tell him, give him this note. All I ask is that you don't travel alone. Too dangerous.

On your way there, if you can, stop by Vault 101 and tell a woman named Amata that I'm dead. Hell, let her read this too. My girl sure did grow up, didn't she Amata? Just wanted to tell you, by the way, I'm sorry for all the stuff I said before. I honestly hope that you have a happy life.

I hope you know, Marie, that I love you so much. As of right now, I've only been your father for about three weeks, but in those three weeks, you've become the light of my life. I've only ever really loved a few people, but I think I love you the most of all. You are the best thing to ever happen to me.

 

Now, Marie, I have some pretty shocking and terrible news for you. You may be wondering why I'm your adoptive father. I won't blame you for probably hating me after you read this, but... I killed your biological parents.

They were slavers, in a place up north called The Pitt. They knew you could be used as a cure, and they were doing so. Your biological mother said that the tests they were running on you were safe, but I didn't believe her. They were basically taunting the slaves, knowing that they could use you too increase labor in hopes that they'd get the cure. I mean, they made people fight to the death for their amusement. The people were dying and mutating due to a terrible disease, and they were playing around and torturing slaves just because they could.

I sided with the slaves, because I wanted to help them. See, they knew you were the cure, but I didn't. I figured that since they were just saying 'the cure', that you were just a vial of medicine that they were withholding. And when I found that you were actually a baby, just barely 5 months old, I snapped.

So I killed everyone there. It was a terrible thing, and I probably could have handled it better, but I don't regret it anymore. It was a godawful thing to do, but no one ever has to suffer there again.

And because I feel so terrible about it, I think you deserve to know your biological patents names. Your dad was Ishmael Ashur and your mom was Sandra Kundanika (I think that's how you spell her last name). You look more like her.

I don't know what Lucas has said your name is, but the one you were born with was Marie Ashur. The one you have at the current is Marie Matthews, but if he changed it, it's Marie Simms. What an extraordinary little girl you are. Three different names, and three legacies to go with them.

I'm sorry you never got to know me. I was a druggie with lots of tattoos and piercings and had the attention span of a bug, but I like to think I was a good man. You made me want to be an ever better one, so you could have a loving father like I did. My dad's name was James. He died sabotaging Project Purity, so that a terrible faction called the Enclave couldn't overtake it and put some stuff in the water that would kill everyone. My mom, Catherine, died having me. She was a good woman, from what I've heard. 

That Project Purity thing? That's where I went. For the last stand to reclaim it. Hopefully, there's clean water all across the Wastes now. I don't doubt it if that's where I died. The radiation was pretty bad.

With this note, there should have been another piece of paper. It's a contract, for a man named Charon, in Underworld. Be good to him, sweetheart. Show him the contract, and tell him I died. He's under your rule now, so ask him the terms of his contract.

I think that's about it. I love you so much, Marie. I hope you grow up to be a wonderful woman. I'm gonna leave you with my mother's favorite bible quote.

I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst from the waters of life freely. Revelations 21: 6

Bel a good girl. I love you Marie. -Jeremiah Hex Matthews.


	7. Hex

Rumor had it that Hex was dead. Lucas didn't doubt it. He'd heard the chamber thing he was in flooded with lethal doses of radiation, and nearly everyone around the outside of it was knocked out. The Brotherhood wouldn't give any information on him, either. Clean water was distributed through the wastes now, though, due to his sacrifice. There were less Mutants, Raiders, Slavers, Talons. The Wasteland was a better place because of him.

But Lucas Simms was left with Hex's newly (and yet again) orphaned baby. This was going to be a challenge, especially since he was aging. He'd be 51 by the time she turned 10. Goddamn Hex and his being a damn hero. 

Deep in the night, well over a month after Hex had gone, Marie woke up crying once again. She was pining for Hex, and Lucas knew it. Harden did the same thing when his mother died. He had no idea what to do then, and didn't know what to do about it now.

Eventually, he got her back to sleep. "I need a cigarette," he muttered, pulling on his duster as he slipped out the door into the cold desert night. He tugged the pack out of a pocket and opened it, plucking out a cigarette and clamping the filter between his teeth. He lit it, inhaling, letting the smoke fill his lungs. 

If Hex didn't show up in another two weeks, or at least if he didn't send a message, his house was going to be boarded up. Lucas had decided that the house would go to Marie, when she was old enough to live on her own. He sighed and leaned against his home.

The gate screeched open just a moment later, and two men clad in leather jackets came in through. One had neatly styled dark hair, the other with shaggy light hair. It was too dark to see their faces, but by their sizes and statures, they appeared to be males. Both were smoking and talking in soft voices, and from the tone it, joking around.

The shaggy haired one turned his head up in Simms' direction, and grabbed the other man's sleeved arm. "Get the hell offa' me, nosebleed!" The dark haired man hissed, but he sounded amused. "Y'ain't my ma."

Shit, these two kids looked like trouble. His free hand went into his pocket, the one with his little pistol inside of it. He hoped to god it was loaded, especially if these kids meant harm.

The men started to make their way up, moving slowly. It looked like the shaggy haired one was relying on the other man to help him walk. He looked weak. Exhausted. It wasn't until the light stationed up above Lucas' house caught his face that the cigarette fell from his lips. "Well I'll be damned."

Hex's eyes glittered in the synthetic light coming from the bulb, his lips pulled into a smile. "I'm here for her."


End file.
